


Chaos Theory

by Lsusanna



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (But only what happens after the movie), (Jacqueline Barnes), Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Cap2 left me with far too many FEELS dammit, F/M, Genderbending, Genderswap, Not Really Character Death, Rule 63, Sex swap, Steve isnt really here, but not really, but., he already died, so; kind of sort of Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lsusanna/pseuds/Lsusanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is many things. Including a murderer, depending on how you spin it. He just thought there was a line, somewhere in there; one he wouldn't cross.</p><p>Excerpt:<br/>The first time he sees her, he had walked into a dark room in his Malibu home, tired after a long day.</p><p>******</p><p>He wanted to keep their son safe. </p><p>He owed them at least that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos Theory

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, yeah so, here goes:
> 
> This got stuck in my brain and wanted to be written. I kept wondering what Civil War would be like in the MCU, and it went AU from there. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**_"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered."_ **

**_-Tom Stoppard, quoted in 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead'_ **

 

 

 

The first time he sees her, he had walked into a dark room in his Malibu home, tired after a long day.

 

 

 

He sighed, throwing his coat on a chair, and turned on the lights. He woke instantly at the sight of her.

 

He wondered how JARVIS had let her in, but then caught sight of the sparking circuit box in the wall.

 

He looked back to her, eyes traveling warily up the shiny metal of her arm, looking finally at her face.

 

It betrayed nothing. Her face was a blank mask, her lips drawn together in a thin line. Her dark umber eyes were the most unsettling. He had seen warmth in them, before, sparks of honey-brown happiness, but they were cold and hard now, the anger bubbling in the recesses of the black orbs. The long camel-lashes no longer beautiful, just something to veil the want of blood, shadow the need for death, or, at the very least, vengeance.

 

He wanted to run, or reason with her; plead. He wanted to tell her he’s sorry, he wanted to tell her to do it, because he deserved it.

 

He did nothing, and returned her gaze silently. Steadily. Unsure.

 

She rose from the table, something in her eyes twisting into a sneer, though her face stayed frozen. She turned and left, boots making no sound as they collided with the floor.

 

 

 

The second time he sees her, she isn’t there.

 

 

 

He crept into the bedroom after a late night in the workshop, careful not to wake Pepper. He had been about to slide into bed, when Pepper turned over in her sleep, pulling the blanket with her, revealing a small metal star, tinted red.

 

He knew what it was. It was a threat. Eye for an eye. Guilt and anxiety twisted in his gut in equal parts.  

 

They left for New York within the hour.

 

Although, he thought, as the plane whirred through the atmosphere, they could go to Antarctica, and she could still find them, if her want of blood was strong enough.

 

And, he thought next, it likely was.

 

 

 

The third time he sees her, he is the one surprising her.

 

 

 

He was winding his way toward Steve’s grave, not sure why he was going, but going nevertheless.

 

He stopped and hid behind an oak tree when he caught sight of her.

 

She was crouching at the end of the raised mound of dirt, which grass had already started to grow upon.

 

She was panting as if she had just run a marathon, and looked like she had been crying, and might start to again.

 

She looked as if her world had just exploded.

 

He walked away, the guilt that was gripping his heart making it difficult to breathe.

 

 

 

The fourth time he saw her was two days later.

 

 

 

He walked into the office that he never used in Stark Industries’ California building, stopping short when he saw her sitting at his desk.

 

He had expected her.

 

He closed the door.

 

She was less cold and calculating, less expressionless. She had mastered more control of herself than when he had seen her in the cemetery, but still had a dazed, almost horrified look about her, and her breathing wasn’t as even as when she had appeared in Malibu; she still looked like she was struggling to draw breath.

 

“Why do you keep doing this?” He asked, the first time he had spoken to her since before Steve died.

 

“I’m still deciding what to do with you.” Came the reply, and he knew it to be true.

 

“Why don’t you just do it already?”

 

“Because Steve liked you, and I was once under the impression you weren’t an enemy.”

 

“I’m not, you know.” He whispered. He wasn’t sure why he had chosen to say it; mostly because she had been important to Steve, and he wanted to help her. Because she looked like she needed help.

 

And because he owed her. Owed _him._

 

She said nothing, a shadow of black amusement passing over her face.

 

His gaze rose to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen…that way… I’m sorry.”

 

She smiled, a slightly savage, unhinged expression that was quite frankly terrifying.

 

“I’m sure you are. Just like I’m sure Barton is sorry for what he did during the Chitauri invasion, and Romanov is sorry for what she did before she came to SHIELD, and gosh knows I’m sorry. But the blood’s still there, and so is the fallout and the collateral, and sorry doesn’t change a damn thing.”

 

She rose from the table and slid past him out the door, and he got the sense that towards the end, she wasn’t talking about Steve.

 

 

 

The fifth time he saw her, was four years later.

 

 

 

He was walking through Central Park with Pepper, making the most of a cool fall day.

 

Pepper was purchasing two Sabretts from a vender, and he was watching the leaves being blown from one of the trees by a gust of wind.

 

His gaze followed their path through the air, and stopped short when he saw her sitting on a bench, a small boy about three years old next to her. She watched the boy with a nostalgic look in her eyes, a smile that was sad around the edges playing upon her lips.

 

 

 

The sixth time he saw her, it was two years after the sighting in the park-when James would have been about five-through the video footage he had gathered.

 

 

 

From the sparse footage he had seen, he surmised that it was a violent, blood everywhere, singed body parts kind of death.

 

HYDRA hadn’t left enough of a body to bury, but he had made sure there was still a headstone, next to Steve’s.

 

 

 

The second time he saw James, it was in a group home.

 

 

 

Clint had told him enough horror stories about Foster Care for him to never want James to grow up in it.

 

And considering who his parents were, and the serums that no doubt had been passed on to him, it was only a matter of time before some supervillain or organization picked him up.

 

And Pepper couldn’t have kids anyway, so.

 

 

 

 

James was the spitting image of Steve, barring the fact that he had his mother’s nose. He had Steve’s personality, too.

 

 

 

He wanted to keep their son safe.

 

He owed them at least that.

**Author's Note:**

> I proofread this myself, so it any typos are seen, please feel free.
> 
> On an unrelated note, there is far too little Rule 63 Bucky out there.


End file.
